Trinkets
by OtterAndTerrier
Summary: During the various stages of moving out, Ron and Hermione find some old trinkets.
1. Packing

Written for the 2014 Ron/Hermione Reunion at **rhr_smutfest**, at LiveJournal. I don't think I can call this a multi-chapter, but rather a series of three linked one-shots. Nonetheless, they'll be posted here as chapters.

Thanks a lot to **TMBlue **for being a great beta, and enjoy!

_Prompts: Lavender Brown, Ron's bedroom_

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><p><span><strong>Packing<strong>

'What do we have here?' Hermione asked, more to herself, as she bent over to pick something up off the floor.

Ron stared after her, smiling. He remembered the first time he caught himself doing that after they had gotten together a year ago, relishing the fact that he was now able to ogle at her like that without feeling pervy; he was looking at his girlfriend's backside, not at his best friend that he thought he had no chance with. It was more legitimate.

Now they were here, in his old bedroom at The Burrow, packing the last of his belongings before moving in together. Well... with Harry. Harry loved The Burrow, but he felt overly guilty because the Weasleys would flat-out refuse to let him pay for anything. He also knew that even though Ron loved The Burrow, too, he was craving his own space after a rough year of trying to be there for everyone. Number 12 Grimmauld Place was full of bitter memories... but it was also an available, roomy, rent-free place. With Ron and Hermione on board, Harry had finally decided that it was their best option, at least for a while.

So, all in all, it was nothing like Ron's idea of him and Hermione moving in together, but it was a start. And he knew his younger self wouldn't even have counted on that happening in a million years.

Hermione finally straightened up, holding something and frowning as she turned it around in her fingers. The object glinted gold when it caught a ray of sun from the window, and Ron paled in recognition. Why hadn't he thrown that thing away?

He watched her looking at the necklace, ready to flinch, apologise and take whatever rant she was about to dive into, but she just looked up at him with raised eyebrows and said, 'My Sweetheart?'

Hermione was smirking. He relaxed.

'Thankfully you had the sense to never wear this in my presence. It's such a big turn off.'

'Men wearing jewellery? You're kidding me.'

'No, actually; a person wearing a leash,' she replied, walking up to where he sat on the bed and dropping the cheap necklace into his hand. Ron dumped it without ceremony into the box of items that he would be getting rid of.

'You'll never put me on a leash, then?' he teased.

'I don't think I'll have to. I have complete faith in you, Won Won.'

He grunted. 'What did you have to say that for? You're ruining the mood!'

'What mood? We're just sorting out your room, I believe.'

Hermione stood a few paces in front of him, hands on hips, still looking amused. Ron was tempted to forgo the packing business for a while and get down to something else, but he knew that was impossible with his mum poking in every half hour to see if they had changed their minds about moving out yet.

'What did you tell her when she asked if you liked it?'

Ron snorted.

'I lied, of course. Said it was very nice, but I probably wouldn't have any chance to wear it.'

'And she believed you?' Hermione asked, incredulously.

'I think that, like with most things in our... er, relationship, she had to make herself believe it. Otherwise I don't get why she didn't ditch me sooner.'

'What did you get her?'

Ron looked away without replying.

'You didn't get her _anything_ for Christmas? Ron!'

'I didn't know we were doing that yet! We'd been together for... what? A month?' Ron rubbed the back of his neck. 'I did feel bad when I got her present, so I snatched some of mum's fudge, wrapped it, and sent it to her. She told me she didn't eat that kind of stuff because it gave her acne.'

'You were a terrible boyfriend.' Hermione laughed, shaking her head.

'You don't seem very upset about that...'

'Well, you're not a terrible boyfriend _to me_,' she clarified, 'and I'm very sorry for Lavender, really. But I mean, you were never actually committed, were you? All that time I thought, what if Lavender is your type? What if you become really invested in that relationship? What if you fell in love with her?' Hermione cleared her throat, all traces of amusement gone. 'Those were the things that hurt the most to think about.'

Ron felt like a petty kind of fungus. At the same time, it was exactly the same feelings he'd had when thinking about Hermione and Krum. What if he was her type? What if he treated her better than Ron ever had? What if she loved him?

'I didn't,' he said. 'I didn't love Lavender. I never thought she'd take our relationship that seriously... Blimey, I didn't even think we'd be in a relationship when she—we... I kissed her because I was angry and I thought you didn't care. Or I wanted to see if you did. I thought maybe you were inviting me to the party as friends, after all. When I saw you did care... it was—'

'Too late,' Hermione finished for him. It sounded so stupid now, and yet she could understand his reasoning. She'd done the same. Twice.

'But why... What happened? One day I was convinced we were going together to Slughorn's party, and the next you were treating me as if you hated me. Did I do something?'

'No! I mean, yes, but not at the time. Ginny,' he explained, standing up. 'She let it slip that you'd... snogged Krum.'

'_What?!_ What did she do that for?' Hermione squeaked. Ginny was the only person she'd trusted enough to talk about it, and Hermione had made her promise she wouldn't tell either of the boys.

Ron told her about how he and Harry had found Ginny snogging the daylights out of Dean.

'She was under the impression that I was jealous because all of you had already kissed someone.'

'Oh no...' It was clearer now: Ron had had a double motive for his very public exhibitions of tongue-handling.

'I thought you would have told us if something like that happened, even if I knew it would have driven me mental anyway. And after you'd always insisted you weren't his girlfriend—well, I didn't want to go to that party with you, knowing you were thinking of someone else...'

Hermione smiled, relief and a sense of finally finding a missing puzzle piece spreading through her. She had spent months overanalysing everything that had happened between the Herbology class when she had invited him to that party and the morning she had woken up to his cold-shoulder treatment, hoping to find a clue in something she might have said or done.

'We did kiss, Ron. But we were never together. It was a one-time thing.'

Not that Viktor hadn't tried enough to make her like him, Hermione thought. She had been really flattered, _ecstatic_, that he'd wanted to go with her to the Ball. She'd kissed him back at the end of the night to see if she felt something for him, too. It had been nice, but that was it. After that, she could barely meet his eyes. How could she tell him she didn't reciprocate his feelings? The second task had made her feel even worse. Harry had even told her in private that Viktor had inquired about the nature of his relationship with Hermione, and she'd felt like laughing. He'd definitely been jealous of the wrong friend.

Ron put his arms tentatively around her, pulling her back to the present.

'I didn't hate you,' he said, softly. 'I'm sorry.'

Hermione relaxed into him and smiled against his chest.

'I might have hated you just the teensiest bit. But I'm sorry, too.'

Ron's chest vibrated with laughter. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. It was the best part of kissing Ron, that she had to reach for him as if she was reaching for the most interesting book on the highest shelf.

It was true: there were times when Hermione had felt like she hated Ron. Their relationship, prior to actually getting together, was spattered with painful memories. So much had happened, though, that those memories seemed like they belonged to another lifetime. She'd never truly hated him, and neither had he. In the light of everything they had lived through together, of the life they were starting to build together, the memories didn't hurt anymore.

'Let's finish packing, shall we?' Hermione said at last, squeezing Ron's hand. 'We have a move to get on with.'


	2. Interlude

_Prompts: Kreacher, SPEW badge, Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

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><p><span><strong>Interlude<strong>

Ron Apparated into the already stacked drawing room holding a cardboard box and, as if timed, Hermione popped in behind him a second later.

'Last box', he said.

'Mine too.'

'Your parents?'

'Upset. But that's not much of a change for them, lately... Yours?'

'Scandalised.'

Hermione's brow furrowed with concern. They had had that conversation several times before, yet Ron knew she was in for an encore.

'Do they still think we'll be... having three-ways or something?'

'Eurgh! I beg you, Hermione, don't ever say that again.'

'You know what I mean. They surely don't expect us to get married right away, do they? I mean, your mum was in a fury about Bill and Fleur getting married after dating for no more than a year, and that's the same with us; just because we've known each other for longer doesn't mean we're ready to—'

'Hermione, breathe! You're turning purple,' Ron interrupted. And in spite of the murderous look she regaled him with, he was only partially joking. She did have a tendency to forget about trivial things like breathing when she got all riled up.

'I already told you that I told them we're all having separate rooms—which, as it's not the same as _sleeping_ in separate rooms, they're welcome to check any time,' he added with a smirk. 'I _told_ them we're mainly doing this because rent fees are excessive for us when we happen to have a rent-free option. I told them, again, everything we've already discussed a thousand times. I feel like I've got a recording in my head. And my dad knows. It's my mum who's clinging to the scandal argument as a last resort.'

'Oh.' Hermione saw it now. Between Mrs. Weasley's accusations and her own concerns, she had lost sight of something she already knew. Molly was afraid of letting go of her younger children. Putting Ron and then Ginny on the Hogwarts Express for the first time must have been one of the most difficult things she'd had to do, but at least they had always come back. Now she saw all of her children growing, leaving her side, leaving her and Arthur alone and... Molly hadn't been alone in almost thirty years.

'But Ginny's not moving out yet,' Hermione said softly. 'And your mum's got Victoire visiting some days, too. And we will go every Sunday—maybe... maybe Saturdays at my parents, too, you think?'

'Of course. Hermione, for the last time, don't worry about them, all right?' He dropped the box he was still holding onto the sofa and turned again to her, placing his hands on her waist, around her box. 'We've worried within reason. Now it's on them.'

'Yes, Ron, but I don't want them to hate me!'

'They won't, I promise. It's _our_ big change; we should be worrying about things like what we're having for dinner or... y'know, dessert?'

He bent over Hermione's box and kissed her, wiping off her preoccupations for a moment. Out of a habit he had promptly acquired, one of his thumbs started rubbing circles on her stomach until the fabric of her top bundled up and he was touching skin.

'We've got to finish this up first, Ron,' she complained, making herself break contact.

'Yeah, okay, later.' Ron sighed and, taking his wand out of a pocket, used a Levitation charm on the box on the sofa.

'Kreacher wants to know what Master Weasley and Mistress Granger would like for dinner,' a voice croaked behind them, making them jump; the hovering box jerked up as well, dropping a few trinkets on the floor.

'Anything's fine, Kreacher, really,' said Ron, stooping to pick up the fallen items and throwing them back into the box. 'Just next time, please make yourself heard when you come into a room.'

'As Master Weasley says,' said the elf, bowing low.

'And we told you there's no need for that. You can call me Ron.' Ron levitated the rest of the boxes, but Kreacher wasn't listening. He had picked something up from the floor and was examining it with interest.

'You dropped this, Master Weasley,' the elf croaked, still not taking his eyes off the object.

'What is it, Kreacher?' Hermione asked, but Ron already knew.

'Thank you,' he said, holding out a hand; at last, the elf dropped the bright yellow badge into his palm.

'Dobby had many of these, sir, is all. Kreacher remembers.'

Bowing again, he left the room without another word.

Confused, Hermione looked down at what Ron was holding; her eyes widened in surprise, but she couldn't keep the smile out of her voice as she said, 'You kept it?'

'What did you think I'd done with it?'

'Well, you were never really invested in SPEW. I thought you'd probably lost it at Hogwarts, or thrown it away when you unpacked your trunk for the last time. But since you kept Lavender's necklace, too, I suppose you were simply too lazy to do that...'

'What? No! Look, that hideous thing was _on the floor_. This one I kept with my stuff—even brought it here!' Ron only relaxed when he noticed Hermione didn't look angry at all; she was just teasing.

'I must say I was tempted to throw it out the window on several counts,' Ron said, his eyes twinkling in amusement now as he looked at Hermione. 'But on those happy occasions, I settled for hurling it really hard against a wall. I really wouldn't have liked to lose it.'

'Why?' Hermione insisted.

'Blimey, I don't know. I wasn't about to go wearing a thing that said "spew"—don't deny it,' he said, seeing as she was about to correct him. 'That _is_ the first thing everybody thinks when they see it. But I still wanted to keep it.'

She didn't need to say anything for Ron to know she wasn't satisfied by his response: there was something else he wasn't telling her, and Hermione knew.

Resigned, Ron sighed and set the boxes he was still pointing at back onto the floor before breaking contact with his wand and sprawling on the sofa. Hermione set her box down with the rest of her lot and sat next to him, waiting for him to talk.

'Well, just because I didn't agree much with your methods of... _persuasion_, doesn't mean I didn't notice what a big deal it was to you. Okay, at first I just kept it because I was sure you'd somehow find out if I chucked it, and I didn't want to be at the wrong end of your wand. But then I started noticing how you went from wanting to hex the magical world for not caring to lighting up whenever you talked about it. Or when you'd knit for those poor unaware elves...'

Hermione blushed with pleasure, looking tenderly at Ron. She'd never really known how much attention Ron had paid to her, the first signs that told him he was already looking at her differently. It had been mostly hoping, guessing and misreading on her part. His, too. Otherwise things would have gone so differently, perhaps.

'Was that around the time you realised...?' She trailed off, looking intently at him.

'Oh—erm, no. You don't know half of it,' he mumbled, the colour of his ears giving him away. 'Look, I care about the house-elves, even if it took me longer to see it. But the reason why I kept the badge is because you gave it to me. It was a... ah... keepsake. I keep your letters, too. Is that enough explanation for you? Would you rather I'd stolen your knickers to remember you by?'

Hermione burst into laughter, happiness bubbling in her chest.

'You don't need anything to remember me by now, Ron. I'm not going anywhere,' she said at last, brushing the fringe out of his face.

'Neither am I. I'll still keep the badge, though... and whatever knickers you can spare.'

'I'm not trusting you with my underwear except for taking it off. And I reckon you can do just that before dinner,' Hermione added confidentially, holding out a hand for Ron to take as she got to her feet. 'I'm in no hurry to unpack today.'


	3. Unpacking

_Prompts: Signed photo of Lockhart, Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

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><p><strong><span>Unpacking<span>**

'Now pass me those small boxes to your left,' Hermione instructed without turning, carefully placing the last volume on her bookcase: _Year with the Yeti_.

Ron did as he was told; the three brightly-patterned boxes felt heavy, but not nearly as much as the ones Hermione had previously unpacked, containing the majority of her book collection.

'What's in these fancy things, anyway?' he said, weighing them in his hands. He lifted the lid of the top box with a finger, peering inside.

'Just letters, Ron; pass them over.' Hermione held out both hands, but Ron was tucking the lid under one arm and frowning as his hand reached for something inside the box.

'I remember this,' he muttered slowly, before revealing the item that had caught his attention. For a brief moment, Hermione felt like wincing. Then she remembered she had found Lavender's corny necklace before and she'd handled it with poise. Maybe Ron would remember and reciprocate.

Ron raised an eyebrow as he gingerly held up a golden card, looking at her.

'Please tell me you haven't gone through this box since 1993, or some other reason why you still keep Lockhart's get-well card,' he said, very seriously.

'No. I was aware of having it,' Hermione replied, turning up her nose slightly.

'Hermione, do you remember that the bloke was a fraud? That he tried to wipe off Harry's memory and mine, and leave Ginny to die?' Ron sounded more disappointed than angry as he carefully left Hermione's boxes on her desk. 'I get that you fancied him before finding out he was an arse, but honestly—'

'That's exactly why I kept it, Ron!' Hermione interrupted. 'I don't fancy him anymore, and I know he was awful. But look where it got him!'

She snatched the card out of Ron's hand and turned it around, looking at the swirly penmanship.

'I was twelve. I'd found out he came from an almost entirely Muggle family—only his mother had magical powers besides him, did you know? And he'd accomplished such great things! Well, or so I thought he had...'

Hermione sighed, looking at Ron.

'I really admired him. I thought, if he could do it, so can I. And I kept this,' she said, showing him the card, 'to remind myself not to believe anything unless I have solid proof.'

'I didn't know. That explains a lot, though,' Ron mumbled.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, placing a hand on her hip.

'Are you going to rub in the Hallows again?'

'Well...'

'Think again.'

'Fine,' Ron said with a smirk, holding up his hands. 'I still don't know why you want to keep his books, though.'

'They're awfully entertaining!'

'Yeah, right. I'd stick to 'awful'. I was thinking about selling mine—that is, if anyone's nuts enough to buy them.'

Ron sat on Hermione's new old bed to peruse the big cardboard box where now only his school books remained. They had been mixed together with Hermione and Harry's ever since she'd sorted out the ones they would take with them during the Horcrux search, abandoned in a corner of Ron's bedroom.

'I could sell more of my books, actually. There are many I won't ever need anymore.'

'I don't know how you can do that. I wouldn't dream of getting rid of any of my books,' Hermione told him, gently running a finger down the spine of one of the copies on her shelves. A thought crossed her mind and she suddenly beamed at Ron.

'It's okay, though. We're practically living together; we can share mine.'

'That's true. Or maybe we should keep both sets, so when our kids go to Hogwarts we won't need to spend a lot on books,' Ron joked. He picked up his old copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and made a face. 'We'll keep mine for the memories and give them yours, they look far better preserved.'

He looked at Hermione, staring at him with a funny expression, and paled.

'Do you really think about that?' she asked.

'No, of course not,' he blurted, his ears turning beet-red. 'I mean, sometimes, but I wasn't saying... I'm not thinking of having kids right away or anything! I mean, we don't even know if we'll end up marrying or—'

'What do you mean?' Hermione cut him off, frowning. '"We don't know if we'll end up marrying"? Are you implying you won't want to marry me? Or that you don't think _I_ will want to marry _you_?'

Ron took great care to return his book back into the box, avoiding eye contact.

'Of course I want to marry you, some day,' he said quietly. 'Once we're both a little more stable in our jobs, so we can get a house. Then, if you wanted to, have a couple of kids—probably less than four...'

Hermione fought back the smile on her lips before saying, 'So if you do want to marry me... the problem is that you don't think I'll want to. Isn't it?'

'No,' Ron said, but hesitated a second too long: Hermione stomped her foot down, accidentally crushing Ron's.

'_Fuck!_'

'You're unbelievable, Ron! How can you still think something like that?'

'I don't!' he half groaned, rubbing his sore foot. 'I'm sorry, this came out all wrong! I only meant... I just don't want you to think I'm rushing you into anything, or that I'm taking too much for granted, because we've never really talked... well, it's only been a year, of course we haven't discussed things like these...'

'But you were thinking about it,' Hermione insisted. She didn't feel upset anymore, but only because she knew Ron had a tendency to become tangled in his words when he wasn't sure how to translate his thoughts for her. Now she understood.

'So was I.'

Ron looked up in surprise and smiled hesitantly.

'You were?'

Hermione nodded.

'I know we've only been together for hardly over a year. I obviously think this is working, and want it to stay that way, but I... I don't want to take anything for granted either. But what I know is that, if I was ever to send my children to Hogwarts...' She smiled at him now and took one of his hands. 'There's no one else I'd rather stand next to in that platform.'

Ron grinned at her.

'But they'd be my kids, too, right?' Ron said, causing Hermione to slap him on the shoulder, even as she smiled. 'Or we just run into each other? Well, you do have a weird way with words, don't you know that?'

He grabbed her hands and tugged gently. Hermione climbed into his lap, locking both legs behind his back, and kissed him.

'So, if I proposed to you,' Ron said, feeling the tickle of her fingers running through the hair on his nape. 'Does that mean you'd say yes?'

Hermione's eyes widened and her nails scrapped slightly against his scalp.

'Are... are you proposing right now?'

'No!' Ron felt the colour spreading through the back of his neck. It _was_ probably stupid to ask your girlfriend if she'd marry you when you weren't actually proposing, come to think of it. 'I just wanted to have a heads-up for when I do. I—I don't have a ring yet—'

'You don't have to buy me a ring,' Hermione blurted out. 'I don't want you to.'

'Are you trying to get me kicked out of my family?' said Ron, giving her a lopsided smile. 'Shacking up isn't scandal enough for you, huh?'

'No, Ron.' Hermione was looking very intently at him. 'Forget about the ring. If you... if you'd proposed to me right now, I would have said yes. I would say yes if you—'

'You want me to propose now?' Ron's mouth had suddenly gone bone-dry.

'Well, look at this logically,' Hermione said, adopting the very Hermione-like look she got when she was trying to convince people—and herself—that something was a perfectly reasonable idea. 'We've known each other since we were eleven. We made it through a war together. This year hasn't been perfect for a number of reasons, but we worked it out. I don't want to get married right away; I don't mind if it's a long engagement. I just... I want to be engaged to you.'

When the seconds passed and Ron didn't say or do anything but stared at her in a sort of spell, Hermione felt her stomach fluttering in nervousness.

'It's insane, I know; you don't have to say ye—'

Her words were cut off when Ron leaned forward and kissed her, his hands placed firmly on her lower back in an impossible attempt to pull their bodies closer than they already were.

'We're engaged, then? You sure you don't want to think this through?'

'I already have,' Hermione said breathlessly, her mouth still less than an inch away from Ron's. 'But I don't think you've actually proposed yet.'

'What would be the point? You already did, in your own way.'

'Oh.'

Ron chuckled at the small frown that appeared on her face and kissed her again.

'Hermione, will you marry me?'

He didn't have to wait for her answer.

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><p><strong>Final notes:<strong> Hey! I was going to make you wait a bit more, but I have two finals so it was today or on Thursday. And who am I kidding, I've got this already written and posted on LJ. I hope you liked the ending as much as the other two parts. I'm afraid this is the last one, though! It was planned as a three-part fics and that's it. To the guest who left this lovely review:

_:Another sweet chapter! I hope you have some of Hermione's trinkets as well. And I'd love it if they would find and discuss that horrible homework planner Hermione gave as a gift for Christmas (honestly, is that the worst gift ever, or what?)._

It was Hermione's turn indeed, but not the planner, I'm afraid! However, that's a wonderful idea and I might write something about it (not now. In the future). Meanwhile, I know a fic that has a wonderful take on that; message me if you're interested! :D

Also, this was not beta-read, so my apologies for any mistakes.


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